Erinhue’s weary voice spoke into the silence clinging to the gathered band of Mithril Knights.

At the sound of a sharply plucked harp string, a tall silver tankard bearing an elaborately wrought letter E, appeared. Erinhue reached out and drew the mug to his lips. The tankard was enchanted. It would not empty as long as the bard held it in his hand and Erinhue drank deeply. After a long draught he spoke again to the empty air.

“We are being poor companions not to share. Would you please attend to our friends?”

The sound pinged again and each one in the company found a tankard brimming with The Lucky Fortune’s blue ribbon ale hovering in front of them. Calling up the power of Mythweaver, Air Ring of the Wordsmith, Erinhue pumped his talented voice with confidence and toasted to providence.

The others in the company repeated the toast and drank their ale, each one allowing it to help calm the stress and tension from the very recent skirmish.

“Hue,” Telta spoke as she gazed into her mug, “ the girl is gone.”

“ Yes, Captain,” one of the Knights in Training confirmed, “ we thought she had followed us when we went to join the battle but when we returned to camp there was no sign of her and what belongings she had were not to be found.”

Erinhue nodded. The news was not surprising and he took a moment to wonder why she had chosen this moment to leave them. He had been expected her to do so ever since that mysterious someone had visited their camp. That could wait. They had more immediate concerns.

“We need to move. It won’t take long for those bully boys to regroup and come search us out.We are headed for those mines or whatever they are mentioned in that notebook. I will take a report on that as we ride. I need this camp broken down like it never existed and us all on the road in ten.

You two…” Erinhue gestured towards the two most experienced of the trainees “… I want you to stay behind. They could not have gotten a good look at either of you in the heat of battle so I want you to stay in town and watch. Find out what you can, but do not arouse suspicion. Keep watch for three days and then come follow us to those mines.”

The tankards vanished when set on the ground as the company prepared to break camp.

For several more minutes, Erinhue remained seated and made yet another attempt to empty the spelled tankard. He considered his last words and cringed. That all sounded very imposing and authoritative. It had the ring of a true Battle Captain speaking to his command.

Erinhue sighed, shook his head and drank from the tankard once more. How was he ever going to live this down?

Erinhue set his silver tankard on the ground and watched it disappear. Once more he silently bemoaned the twist of gleefully treacherous fate that had placed him in charge of the company and then, resigned, he got to his feet. He slowly walked over to a mid-sized oak tree standing at the edge of the campground. Krillen was bound by rope to the base of the tree trunk with Meneldor standing guard.

“I don’t really have time right now so we are going to get straight to the point.” Erinhue looked down at Krillen who smiled back in defiance. Erinhue sighed loudly. “I see we are going to have to do this the hard way.”

Erinhue smiled his sucker smile as he shook his head slightly. “You know they really should have found a better spot for you. There is an ant hill right beside your left leg.”

As soon as the words were spoken three little ant crawled up onto Krillen’s knee. Krillen and Erinhue watched as five more joined them, then ten more and then a hundred. The ants had now covered Krillen’s knee and were swarming up and out over the rest of his body.

Erinhue shook his head again. “You know something? Now that I get a look at them I can see those are red ants. I hear they bite.”

The countless tiny bodies lightened from a dark brown to a nearly translucent red. Some of the more adventurous creatures found ways to get underneath Krillen’s clothing to reach the warm and tempting flesh beneath. The ruffian reacted with a violent immediacy to the nibbling mandibles and crawling bugs creeping all over him searching for exposed skin.

Panic turned to horror as the nipping insects swarmed over his legs and crept up his torso.

Erinhue’s sucker smile blossomed into a colder version of his star bright grin.

“Now, do you want to tell me about that sword and how you came to be carrying it?”

Meneldor was standing guard as Erinhue interrogated Krillen. Ants? What ants? he thought. But he kept his beak shut. It was probably Agarak's doing, and he didn't want to spoil it. He stepped away and let the dragonharp do his thing. Spreading his wings, he took off. In a way, a protection was taken away from Krillen, and he was now left to the mercy of Agarak and Erinhue.

Brondgast, in human form, was enjoying his ale that the dragonharp had materialized for him. He was seated by Quimrill his apprentice and waiting. He wasn't about to interfere in the fun.

Akara had been racking her brain for the past hour after she had discovered there was no other way into the mine from the East. She could not return to the Mithril Knight camp; they would have by now realized she had left with Tempest's journal, and she would not be able to convincingly explain her absence. She frowned deeply. How stupid she had been, blinded by her own pride in thinking she had figured out another entrance where others had failed.

But what should she do now? And how in the world had these old mithril mines been used if there was no entrance except the Obliviate?

There was something she was missing, something so obvious pushing at the boundaries of her mind and yet unable to form coherently into thought. She studied the landscape again. What a barren wasteland. No wonder this area had never been populated---the land would hold no grain for growing, or grass for cattle.

Her eyes traveled over the small stream that bubbled as it came from underneath the stone. She wondered what it was like underground; was it a river? Was what was on the surface deceptive? Was there life underneath her feet that none but the ancient dwarves, who had eyes for such things, could see?

Perhaps….

There had to be another entrance. But not here. Somewhere further north, where the river was stronger as it soared underneath the stone. Yes, that must be it. After all, her own people lived no where near this place, and yet the Red Dwarves had come that way on their journey east. There must be an entrance farther north. The mithril mine must be more expansive than anyone realized.

For the first time, Akara felt a shiver of fear. If the mine stretched for miles and miles beneath their feet, what kind of evil could it contain now, nearly a generation after the Dark Lord’s fall?

Krillen was in over his head. These people had powers of which he had never seen, and he could see his life flashing before his eyes with every ant bite. He must speak; he must give them something. But if he fully disclosed his part in Tempest's death, would they not kill him on the spot?

"The sword..." he faltered, thinking quickly, remembering that the best lies are always those mixed with truth. "It belonged to a warrior, one who came into town a few months ago. The Dark Lady of Mordor, she called herself."

"And how did you come to have her sword?" Erinhue asked icily.

"She involved herself in the trade here, nasty business, but very lucrative. She made the mistake of asking too many questions. There were suspicions about who she was, and why she had come. So, they took her in the night," he swallowed nervously.

"Who took her?"

"It could have been any number of people---the Venaji Gang, the Desert Vipers, the Kenati."

Erinhue's smile turned deadly. "Or it could have been your own gang."

Krillen shook his head. "Even I wouldn't interfere with the people she was asking questions about. But it doesn't really matter in the end who took her. The result was the same: they threw her in the Obliviate."

"And her sword came to you....how?"

He swallowed again. "I found it..."

"Try again."

He sighed nervously. "I was there. I had informed against her. But I didn't know what they were going to do to her, I swear it. These things happen all the time here; I thought she would make a deal, betray her own people, and make a new alliance. That is how the game is played. But she didn't play it correctly."

Erinhue looked away toward the desert. "She rarely played the game correctly. Did they kill her before they threw her in?"

"No, but it was weeks ago now. If the fall didn't kill her, she'd die of starvation down there. It is meant to be a slow death, made worse by the knowledge that there is no escape."

Brondgast watched the interrogation for a while, but then all vanished before his eyes. He was back in that strange forest seated with the other eleven Dragon Warriors. One of them stood up. "Brondgast, now you come into your own. What is seen is not what is."

"What does that mean?" asked Brondgast.

"That is what you will have to find out,brother." he said. "It could mean a second darkness or the redeption of Middle-Earth."

With those riddles, he was back. That was what he would have to puzzle out.

There was no more to be learned from Krillen. The man was little more than local muscle and not privy to more information than he needed to play his role.

Erinhue walked around the thick tree trunk and knelt down to retie Krillen’s hands. If he had any sense at all the man should be able to free himself in time. Whatever he could report did not matter. Who ever he would report to would already know which way they were headed.

Their camp no longer existed and only the most skilled would detect that it ever had. The supplies were packed and the company stood at the ready, awaiting their captain.

Erinhue walked over to Treble mounted the patchwork pony and lead the company of Mithril Knights off again in search of their lost companion, to rescue her or discover her fate.

The wooded lands outside the town grew sparce as they travled. The trees gave way to grasses which in turn gave way to dry and rock ground. The barren lands stretched out as far as the horizon with only blunt tooth hills to break the bleak landscape.They came across no towns or farms or people. The land was empty and unwelcoming. The Knights traveled in silence, the gloom over the land sinking into their bones.

Two days and a restless night passed before the landscape was broken. Mountains loomed in the distance. As they drew nearer more rocky outcroppings could be seen stretching out towards them.

A hasty camp was set up for the night. Sensing that the goal of their journey would be reached in the early hours of the coming day everyone wanted to be well rested to face whatever they might find.

Tempest, I’m coming.

The phrase repeated in Erinhue’s mind as they rode forward. If she was dead, the bard was certain that somehow he would know it. His vision was drawn to an unnaturally shaped rock formation that he somehow knew was the location of the imprisoning pit.

Sensing his riders eager tension, Treble increased the speed of his gait and the other horsed in the company followed suit. They would reach their destination within the hour.

Erinhue did not even realize that he was now leading the company at full charge. He had lost the Lucky Fortune. He had lost Aerin. Most recently and painfully he had lost Dirk. He was determined that he was not going to lose one more thing that was close to his heart. He was ready and willing to die to prevent that from occurring.

Brondgast went with them on his horse Thunder, and Meneldor flew above, often flying ahead and keeping vigilant watch for any surprises. Soon, they were at the site where the Obliviate was after two and a half days of hard riding. As they approached, Brondgast leaped off of his horse, transforming as he did. Meneldor saw what he was doing, and swooped down to pick him up. But how to get down there to find Tempest? As he descended with Brondgast in his talons, he shimmered, the gem in his collar was shining. Once again, as in the time when he entered the initiation hall, he passed through, he didn't know how, it just happened. He descended, his wings flapping, as the place was big. Slowly they descended until they reached the bottom. The bear was in his own domain now. They waited for the others.

Before the horses had come to a full stop, Brondgast had lept from his mount, transforming to the great bear before he hit the ground.

Erinhue was about to call out a order to cease and desist, but Meneldor swooped down and snatched the Beorning up into the air and over the yawning mouth of the pit.

A bright light gleemed from a magicked jewel and both Eagle and Bear seemed to diminish in their great size as they both dove down into the darkness and out of sight of the company.

Erinhue dismounted and walked over to the gaping hole in the ground and looked over the edge and down. This was not his plan. He did not exactly know what his plan might have been but he did know this was not it. They had no idea what was below them underground or what they would find there. Now two of his company were down there facing the unknown.

The bard shook his head with a sigh. He turned back to the dismounted company and said “There is only one thing we can do now. We follow them.”

If it had been daylight, she would have rode right by it and never seen it. But the heat of the day had made traveling unpleasant, and fearing that the Mithril Knights would catch up to her, or the Great Eagle might be sent ahead to retrieve her, she had taken to traveling by moonlight when she knew his vision was impaired.

When she stopped to rest, she would read over Tempest's journal, seeking to understand this woman and perhaps who had caused her death. But though the journal revealed Tempest as a competent warrior and spy, it told little about her inner life. Akara felt that she knew little more about her than when she started this journey.

Actually, that wasn't exactly true. Having seen the lengths to which the Mithril Knights were willing to go to rescue their fallen friend did reveal something. Her mother had been someone worth fighting for, someone who was missed by her companions. It made her heart warmer at the thought----Tempest was someone for whom she need not be ashamed.

That thought had made her raise her eyes in pride, and it was at that moment that something far off to the left glinted in the dull moonlight and caught her attention. She slowed her horse to a halt and felt her blood quicken.

There it was again. Something moving in the darkness.

Something in armor.

She swung off her horse and crouched close to the ground as she crept closer. The object was still several hundreds of meters away, but the cloud covering the moon drifted slightly at that exact moment and she saw clearly the figure before her.

Tall, and exceedingly fair, even from this distance. He wore armor unlike anything she had ever seen---silverly beautiful as it reflected the moonlight. She had not much contact with elves, but she knew instinctively that this must be someone important. A certain dread fell upon her as he turned his imperious gaze to the West, for the expression on his face did not reflect the beauty of his features. No, his face was as cold as the moonlight, and his gaze as hard as iron.

But he was gone almost as quickly as he had come. Her eyes strained the darkness but could see him no longer. He must have gone underground, for there was nothing else in this wasteland---no structure that she could see. The mine stretched beneath her; she was sure of it. There must be an entrance, and this elf had just descended into it.

Telta moved closer to the hole a foul stench reaching her before she even reached the edge. She peered into the deep chasm but even her keen eyesight could not pierce the darkness below. What she could see of the walls leading down they were lined with very large, menacing and sharp rocks sure to stop any who tried to come out...or go down.

Follow them Hue had said. Perhaps easier said than done. But follow them they would.

Telta stepped back quickly when the ground crumbled beneath her foot. A few rocks gave way tumbling down into the pit. It was entirely possible that the ground surrounding the hole was unstable.

Moments passed and it seemed like an age before she heard the faint sound of the loosened rocks hit bottom. She looked over at Hue to see if he had heard it too. A small nod of his head indicated that he had. A look came over her and without saying a word Hue knew what she was thinking. The tilt of her head and the way she looked...she was volunteering to go in first after their companions.

Brondgast and Meneldor were at the bottom of the mine shaft called the Obliviate. They were surrounded by old bones of those who had been cast down there. Shreds of clothing, but nothing familiar.A mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in...a riddle. What had happened to Tempest? They both looked up at the entrance to the hole. They waited on the others.

"You are more familiar with caves, Brondgast, being a bear. Do you see anything?" said the Great Eagle.

"I see a tunnel leading away from this hole, but we dare not enter without the others." growled the Beorning, the Stone of Bar translating the tongue of bears.

"What is keeping them?" said Meneldor. "Surely Agarak can have them down in a flash."

Erinhue watched Telta nimbly leap back when the ground at the edge of the mineshaft began to crumble and fall. He was unable to stifle a chuckle which drew him a venomous look from the elf.

“I didn’t mean to laugh” the bard tried to sound apologetic, “ but if we do it your way we might just bring down that entire ledge on top of our friends. My way would be easier.”

“You two,” Erinhue turned to the three knights in training, “ You stay here and wait until the others get here and then you follow us. “You,” he gestured at the third, “You are going to come with us.”

Leading the others to a more stable side of the aperture, Erinhue grouped them closely together with himself in the middle. “Now everyone hold hands,” he instructed,” and on three, we jump.”. He counted down and when he shouted, “Three” the company jumped off the edge. In an eyeblink of time they were standing at the bottom of the mineshaft enveloped in a deep darkness.

“If it is not too much trouble” the bard spoke to the dragonharp that still hung from his saddle. “we could use a torch or two down here.”

The darkness was immediately broken by two flaming torches. Erinhue took hold of one to light their way forward. He gave one to the young knight in training who would bring up the rear.

“Sorry that it took us so long, gentlemen.” Erinhue said to Meneldor and Brondgast. “Now that we are all together again, shall we go see what we can see?”

Brondgast gave a half-growl which was an ursine laugh. The Stone of Bar translating the tongue of bears, he said "I was wondering what kept you, Erinhue. I've been sniffing ahead, and nearby is the smell of death, but there is a curious breeze coming from the cavern, smells fresher than anything here. Since I am familiar with caves, I'll go first."

Meneldor regretted coming down here, remembering his time in the tunnels of Annuminas before it was cleared by the Sycle and Agarak. "I will go with you, but my skills won't be of much use down there." He didn't know it, but he couldn't be more wrong. Brondgast, without more delay, took the point and entered the cavern.

Agarak's light was necessary, but at first, it regrettably showed a scene of death. Bones scattered the dusty floor, and even partially rotted corpses lay where they had been thrown down. As the Knights traveled further, they saw evidence of those who had not been killed by the fall, but who had dragged themselves deeper into the tunnels. However, their wounds had been too great, or they had died of starvation; it was unclear from the remains. What WAS clear was unsettling: they had died alone, and in agony.

But Tempest's body was not among them.

What was more, the Bear found tracks that suggested someone (or many someones) had recently walked these tunnels. The tracks were muddled because the dust and sand had obscured much of them, but from time to time partial boot prints could be seen. They lead away from the Obliviate, deeper into the heart of the caverns. After following these tracks for half an hour, Erinhue whistled for a stop. The Knights gathered around him as he ran his hand over one of the walls.

"Telta, what do you see?" he asked her.

"These markings...." she began.

"Yes, these are made by dwarven tools, but they are very old."

"It's a mine. And given the landscape above us, it can be nothing but Mithril. It has been long abandoned," Telta determined.

"Yet, someone has been here recently. Probably more than one person," Djaleh glanced at the dust at their feet.

"Why would they be down here, in an empty mine? The mithril here ran out long ago. These caverns have nothing left of value, except sand," one of the other Knights frowned dubiously.

"No mithril, but there is something here. Be alert: dwarven mines hold many dangers, no matter how ancient they may be," Erinhue warned gravely, as the dragonharp jangled its chords tentatively.

Now was when they would have need of a wizard, but where were they? Radagast was still at Mirkwood and Pallando... Meneldor thought of his mentor back East, one of the Ithryn Luin who he had developed a bond with. He thought of the blue wizard as his eagle eyes searched the darkness, and he heard Pallando's words from the past.

Do not fear the darkness, Meneldor, Sorontel, Last Eagle, it cannot harm you as long as you do not let it become part of you. It covers much, but the light can show what is hidden in the darkness.

Light. They had the light of Agarak, but what could he do? Brondgast had his Stone, but it gave no clue to the bear...yet. "Ah, what remains to be uncovered?" he said to himself. The gem at his neck glowed and the eagle's eyes glowed in response. But what did he see?

The markings that suddenly filled their vision were illuminated green by the stone around Brondgast's neck. They were words, written all down the tunnel---not Dwarven, or Elven, or even the common tongue. Both Telta and Erinhue examined them in puzzlement.

But one thing was clear: they were not ancient, but recently done.

”They aren’t carved into the stone. I can’t understand how the runes are written,” Telta said, running her hand over one of the sections of text.

”This is wizard’s work,” Erinhue sucked in his breath. ”But whether it means good or ill, we cannot know. We can only follow the runes until the truth is revealed.”

”We have no defense against wizards,” one of the other knights said ruefully. ”Swords and arrows may not be enough.”

”Take heart: Saruman was felled by a traitor’s daggar. And we don’t know if these runes portend evil. But Erinhue is right: we can only know by going forward. For this purpose we were sent here by Elbren. If there is evil here, it must be confronted,” Telta encouraged.

A voice suddenly spoke out of the darkness around them: it filled their minds, but came from no specific source. ”Evil does indeed walk these tunnels. But it does not reside in wizards.”

Instinctively, the knights all immediately formed a circle, defending against all sides. The runes around them seemed to brighten all at once and then faded down the tunnel, as though tracing out a specific path for them to follow.

”Evil does indeed walk these tunnels. But it does not reside in wizards.”

The band of Knights moved back to back forming a protective circle. Their rapidly drawn swords pointed outward, covering all directions.The voice went silent and there was no other sound in the darkness. Some of the runes along the walls around them began to glow a vibrant green, leading deeper into the tunnel. A pathway was clearly being marked for them, but where would it lead?

Once again Erinhue mutely wished that he knew what the original mission was all about. What had Elbren sent Tempest out to investigate? He knew well why she had accepted such a dangerous assignment. She wanted to get away from him.

Tempest had not yet forgiven him for his actions following the death of their comrade in arms, Dirk the Daring. Knowing this brought a sense of guilt that the bard thought he deserved. He had to find Tempest and she had to be alive.

The Mithril Knights stood down from their defensive position and relaxed. Each face was turned towards their Captain. Each face bore a questioning expression. They were waiting for him to speak.

“Well now goslings,” Erinhue began “my guess is that someone or something wants us to go in that direction. I don’t like being lead around by the nose but I see no other alternative. I suspect some sort of trap and whatever is using Tempest as bait.”

Erinhue paused a moment before speaking again.

“ I have to continue. I have to find her and my reasons are all personal. I cannot in good conscious ask any of you to continue and so as your Captain I release you from any and all obligation to go any further. Return to the guildhouse with all honor in tact.”

Brondgast growled. The Stone of Bar translated to say "You are not getting rid of me that easily, Erinhue," he said. "The last Dragon Warrior does not back down from what he puts his paw to, and I am not doing so now. I am going."

"There is no place for Eagles in a cavern," said Meneldor. "But if I were to go where my heart dwells, I would be far away on the holy mount of Taniquetil where my heart dwells. If we walk into a trap, we do so with eyes open. And I am not so easily trapped. I was once sorely tempted to fly the sky-road to the west before we fought the Dragon. But I renounced that hope to go where fate sends me. I will go with you as well."

The few Knights in Training looked at each other in confusion. Was their Captain dismissing them from this mission? Were they about to forgo their first mission assignment because it was dangerous to continue?

A chorus of protest came from them as each young warrior cried out "No" or "I will not leave."

Teltasarwen slowly turned towards her captain and stared at her long time friend. The expression on her face was a mix of protest and affront. " I cannot believe that you would even say that to me, bard."

On the rare occasion that Telta referred to him as "bard" she had been far less than pleased with him. Erinhue met her steady elfin gaze for a few moments and then turned away from the accusations he read in her eyes.

"Alright," Erinhue sighed in surrender, " but don't one of ya tell me I did not give ya any choice in the matter

The runes brightened slowly down the stone walls indicating clearly for the Knights to follow. At first, the passageway narrowed, but then it gradually opened into a larger room which had several other passageways running off of it. The runes dimmed for a moment, but ran down one of the side walls to show them the path. Everyone was wondering the same thing: Where did those other passageways lead? But there was no time to contemplate this, for they suddenly found themselves in a much smaller antechamber than the last one, and this time, they were not alone.

In front of them, the runes died out and the only light now was from the torches the Knights carried. The shadows bounced off the curved walls and caught the shape of someone standing in the middle of the room, perfectly still. Djaleh lifted his torch to cast light on the figure, but instead the light illuminated everything in the room except the person who stood in the center. Around the figure, on the floor, a different set of runes suddenly gleamed red, encircling the person.

Erinhue decided he did not like those runes. Something about them…Agarak's jeweled eyes grew hot.

But Telta stepped forward quickly, her eyes registering surprise as she read runes, even from this distance. Then, without saying a word, she walked straight up to them and reached out her hand before anyone could stop her, touching one of them with her hand. Immediately, the runes disappeared. The figure in the center of them collapsed from the position he or she had been standing, and the Knights perceived that the figure had been somehow imprisoned within them.

Erinhue dashed forward, his heart beating violently. It was her; it had to be. They had finally found her. The figure was huddled on the cold floor now, twisted as though in pain. Gently, he turned the figure over, not sure how long they had been imprisoned by the runes, afraid he had come too late.

But the face that blazed into view was not Tempest's. It was a man’s face, an old man’s tired face. Though his body was clearly weakened, his eyes were sharp and bright and open. A dry, rattling voice came up out of his lungs, as though it had been a very long time since he had used his vocal chords. Every syllable he spoke was followed by a short gasp of his lungs as they filled with air. It was painful at first to listen as he spoke, ”Thank...you,...my friends... I...had...been...trapped...here...for...quite...some...time. He paused and seemed to regain his breath somewhat as he continued. "None but an elven touch could free me from that spell. I thank you for that,” his head nodded slightly as his voice carried tiredly to their ears. They all recognized it instantly as the voice they had followed down the hallways.

But their thoughts were cut short by Meneldor’s loud cry. He rushed forward with both disbelief and joy at the sound. ”Pallando!” he cried. ”It is Pallando!”

Pallando. The Blue Wizard of the East whom nobody has heard of until Meneldor came. thought Brondgast. He was awed to see the wizard at last.

Meneldor was beside himself with joy. He saw his mentor was still shaky, so he stood beside so Pallando could lean on him. "I've been thinking of you all the time. Everything you told me has come true. I am now a Mithril Knight, and I know who I am."

Pallando smiled weakly. "You have grown since I saw you last, but I knew you would."

“Close your mouth. You look like a fish,” hissed one of the other knights in training.

Paul snapped his mouth closed. It wasn’t any man who could say that they had a epic tale made flesh right before their eyes. He reflected, and not for the first time, that if this was the sort of incredible occurrence that could come to pass while traveling with the Mithril Knights then he had indeed chosen wisely to join their company.

Recent events aside, Paul basked in the risdual honor of standing in the same room with one of the Ithryn Luin. He dared not speak, and had no idea what he might say if he was addressed. He blinked and tried to tear his eyes off the living legend, but only managed it for a split second. When his eyes involuntarily snapped back he found himself staring directly into the wizzard’s intense gaze. The ancient brow wrinkled for the just tiniest of instants and a questioning expression rippled over the aged features.

Paul took a step back in shock, but then Pallando’s gaze moved on, back to the faces of his friends. Paul’s hand drifted automatically to the sword hanging from his belt. He carresed the pommel with the tips of his fingers and felt the reasuring warmth flood up into his arm and through his shoulders, as he had many times a day since he had picked up the wondered weapon. It made him feel better. More confident standing here in the presence of greatness.

“What are you doing?” Hissed a voice behind him.

Paul suddenly realized that without even thinking he had taken two bold steps toward the center of the room and the huddle of full fledged nights gathered there. He suddenly felt the desire to be in the thick of the

“Huh, probably thinks he’s big stuff since he was in the fight,” muttered another trainee.

That should have been enough to bring him to his usually rather humble senses, but with the stream of strength and confidence pouring into him, Paul found he did not much care what the other’s thought of him at this moment. He strode up and stood stiffly at Brondgast’s side clasping his hands behind his back. However, as soon as his hand left the sword hilt the warmth and confidence drained away, making him feel jaringly emotionally depleted.

The reality of where he was standing and how had so boldly walked up rose like a menacing tided in Paul’s mind and he instantly felt shame for his presumption. He could feel his face begining to turn red and his heart started beating like a frantic drum. Too late to retreat, so he focused on listening to what was being said by the others, not making eye contact, and thinking unobtrusive thoughts.

Brondgast felt and smelled Paul coming up by his side, and smelled his fear and shame. He nuzzled his apprentice. gave a growl which the Stone of Bar translated as "There is nothing to be ashamed of, son," he said. "It is fitting that you should be here at the side of your mentor to witness this event. I commend you for your boldness and bravery."He smiled, or as a bear can. "Do not listen to the taunts of the others, you did well."

From the corner of his eye, Erinhue noticed Paul leave the cluster of trainees to stand beside Brondgast. His mentor’s mind made note of the young man’s initiative even as he stared at this newly released prisoner.

Pallandro? Who would have thought to find one of the long lost Blue Wizards held prisoner in a place like this. What Erinhue knew of wizards came from his association with Gandalf, one of the Prancing Pony’s best customers in times gone by. Whatever force had been able to imprison and hold a wizard was something both dangerous and powerful, a force to be reckoned with.

Agarak suddenly appeared to a flourishing fanfare of notes. The dragonharp hovered in the space between its bard and the wizard. Its strings were vibrating in a song of excited greeting.

“And hail to you, Ka- Arnith, It has been long indeed.” Pallandro responded. The wizard’s gaze shifted to study Erinhue. “Is this your charge?”

The dragonharp chimed an affirmative.

The wizard turned his studying gaze on each member of the company in turn. Nodding his head, Pallandro said “ Yes, they might be able to help.”

Ka-Arnith. It had been long ages since he had heard his brother's name. He looked over at Agarath and grinned. And when an Eagle grins the entire world dances.

Pallando then looked over at Brondgast. "The Stone of Bar. I haven't seen it since the day when I came to Middle-Earth and a Dragon Warrior greeted me. Barzon was he who met me in the land of the Beornings. Brondgast was carried in vision to the wood where his fellow Warriors were. Barzon stood up and spoke through the Stone to the wizard. "Well met, Pallando," he said. The twelfth Dragon Warrior stands before you and finishes our number." The vision faded. "I will aid you in any way I can, Pallando," said Brondgast, using the Stone to speak.

"Do you wish to rest, Master, or shall we continue on our journey with you?" said Meneldor.

The old man was still weak and he had made no attempt to rise from his position on the floor. But his breathing was now more steady, and Telta came to his side and gently asked, “Who did this to you, Pallando? The runes around you could not be broken except by one of elven blood, which, given the location, seemed almost impossible that you would be rescued. Who is responsible for your imprisonment?”

The wizard smiled weakly, ”I will answer your question, but first I have one of my own. I see that my rescuers have come here not seeking for me, but on a different quest. I know very little of the Mithril Knights---I have heard only whispers. What brings you into a mine so desolate that it has been my prison these many years?”

Meneldor sprang to reply, but Erinhue held up his hand. ”We must have our answers first.”

The wizard’s eyes sparkled in amusement. ”Wisdom gained through experience, I see. You have nothing to fear from me, and if you have doubts, you have Meneldor’s word on my behalf.”

Telta exchanged a quick glance with the bard before addressing the wizard. ”It’s not that we doubt his word, but it has been long since the blue wizards have been seen. You speak of whispers, well, we have heard whispers too. And we have seen a wizard fall into darkness to the grief of many. We are right to be careful. You have not answered our question. And where is your brother wizard?” she asked.

Pallando’s eyes lost their sparkle. ”Of him, I will not speak.” He fell silent for a moment, as though deciding how to proceed with his tale. For a moment, Erinhue was very glad that the wizard had no staff. Then, Pallando sighed and with pain, slowly rose to his feet. ”Something drew me to these mines, something different than the evil that spread from Mordor. We felt it long ago, but then it seemed to disappear as the world grew pale under the Dark Lord’s shadow. But with his defeat, the threads began to appear again. We followed them deep into the East. These long-abandoned mines found new life from a source different than what we expected. I still do not know fully what walks these passages, for my exploration was brief before my capture.”

With a certain amount of dread, Erinhue asked, ”But who was it that captured you?”

As much as Paul was awestruck by the presence of the blue wizard, Telta’s words shook him from his moment of private hero worship. It was important to remember that wizards were not immune to the seduction of power. He flipped his cloak forward over his sword as his conscience stabbed at him. Interesting. When had he started to think of that sword as his own property? A tune began to unfurl itself in his mind. It seemed like a very familiar tune, but even so Paul could not think of the words, or even if in fact it had any. He tried to banish it from his mind, but it continued faintly and persistently.

But who was it that captured you?” He heard Erinhue ask, brining him back into the moment.

”Elves,” came the reply.

Paul stiffened involuntarily, and the sudden shifting and rustling of chain mail about the cavern indicated the words had had a similar affect on others. The gloom suddenly took on a more sinister air, and the tune in his head seemed to as well.

“But why?” The words burst out of him without his permission, and then hung impudently in the air much to Paul’s embarrassment.

Pallando raised an arched and bushy eyebrow. “I do not care to speculate on matters I do not fully understand, but as my elven rescuer has so subtly eluded to, If a wizard may be seduced by dark powers, how much greater the danger for... younger races.” Younger races purred in the silence that followed, daring anybody to read the subtext. lesser and weaker races. “As I said, I was captured soon upon entering these ancient mines.”

“Do you know how long you have been here?” Meneldor asked, huge raptor eyes full of concern.

“I cannot say. A long while to be sure, but in this place the passage of time is muted.” Pallando passed a withered hand over his eyes and attempted to clear his throat, “I don’t suppose there is any water to spare?”

Everyone looked aghast and ashamed that the conversation had progressed so long without water or sustenance being offered. Brondgast turned and growled for the Kit’s to bring forth water and food, but before they could do more than start rummaging through the supply packs Agarak chimed cold, crystal clear water and an assortment of succulent, roasted vegetables into existence at the wizard’s feet. The Kit’s settled back sullenly, obviously disappointed they had been robbed of a potential moment for distinction.

“My thanks, old friend,” Pallando said, and then added quickly, “But you should refrain from such actions within the Obliviate. There are those that lurk here that are sensitive to all manner of power, and you would not want to give away your presence needlessly, as we did when we first came here.”

As the knight’s continued their discussion and Pallando revived himself on the provided sustenance, Paul took a step back. He had already embarrassed himself enough and the calculating way the wizard kept looking at him was making him uncomfortable. He occupied his eyes with scanning the walls of the chamber. With his brain so occupied he discovered much to his chagrin that the faint tune was still lilting softly in the background of his contemplations. Try as he might he could not change it or interrupt it. It was soft and beautiful and eerie all at the same time. He wished he could remember where he had heard it, for then perhaps he could store it away once again in its appropriate memory.

"You all seem to forget the Knights of the Silmaril," said Meneldor. "They do have elves among their number. It is not impossible for an elf to be corrupted or duped. The greatest of all elves, Fëanor, was corrupted by his own pride and caused more harm than good. If wizards can be corrupted, so can elves, just as Pallando has said."

The Eagle was deep in thought. He had never heard of a Great Eagle who was corrupted, but led astray? Once again, he had not heard of one.

"I for one do not doubt you, Pallando, but could you of all people be deceived about some things?"

"It is possible, Meneldor," said Pallando. "I still regret when I took on apprentices, and it started magic circles and secret cults that dismayed me when I heard the direction they were taking. You were the first I took in my confidence since that disaster. I have not heard from Alatar, but I fear the worst."